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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349021">A Royal Affair</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWouldBee_Enough/pseuds/ThatWouldBee_Enough'>ThatWouldBee_Enough</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Kinktober, M/M, fucked up family dynamics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:28:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWouldBee_Enough/pseuds/ThatWouldBee_Enough</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander works in the palace for the crown prince, John Laurens. </p><p>Things get complicated when the king seems to take an interest in him as well. </p><p>---------</p><p>Prompt #14- 69- Henry/Alexander</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Hamilton/Henry Laurens (1723-1792), Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_deer_friend/gifts">my_deer_friend</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alexander has been working in the palace for years. When he first arrived at the gates, young and recently orphaned, he had begged for any work at all, anything to keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach, to save him from the worse fates that tended to fall upon poor, homeless children. After a great deal of arguing his own worth, one of the women had taken pity on him and vouched for him to the head of the staff, and ever since then he’s spent every day proving his value to the palace and all of those who work inside its walls. Eventually, improbably, he had worked his way up to become the personal valet to the crown prince. </p><p>It hadn’t taken Alexander long to realize that the prince desired more than just his professional services, but he doesn’t mind partaking in the more intimate duties requested of him as well. Prince John is kind and sweet, and accepting his affections has led to many advantages. Alexander is spoiled with gifts and extra portions of food and tender words that feel almost like love. Alexander isn’t stupid, so he doesn’t mistake this as anything other than what it <em> truly </em> is. He knows he is no more than a glorified palace whore, no matter how many sweet phrases the prince whispers to him while they are alone in his bedchamber. </p><p>He wonders if– when the prince is finally forced to choose a wife– he will be sent away. Or at the very least transferred to some other position within the palace so as to not interfere with the marriage. There’s a chance the prince will insist on keeping him anyway. The thought of parading about the bedchamber against his future wife’s wishes makes Alexander distinctly uncomfortable, but he knows he’d suffer that discomfort in exchange for the protection and security the prince is able to offer him in a heartbeat. The world is too cruel a place to pass up this sort of opportunity for a good, comfortable life. </p><p>Alexander has never spoken more than a few very formal words to the king, so he’s surprised to notice the way that– recently– his eyes seem to track his movements every time they’re in the same room. Alexander’s first suspicion is that the king has found out about the prince’s preference for him somehow. That the extra attention he’s paying him is the king trying to confirm the rumor. To catch Alexander in a touch that is outside the bounds of professionalism. </p><p>But Alexander is very discreet. He maintains the appearance of propriety in all moments except those in which he and the prince are truly alone. Because this position is too good for him to lose, and he cannot afford to mess things up over something so obviously simple as discretion. </p><p>As weeks stretch on, he starts to wonder if he’s misjudged. The lingering looks haven’t subsided, but the king also hasn’t approached either Alexander or the prince about anything they might be doing in private. Surely if he had suspicions and he wished to put an end to things, he would have done so by now. </p><p>If he’s said anything to his son, he hasn’t passed the message along to Alexander, and Alexander is quite sure he would have heard of any such conversation which passed between them, especially since the prince is <em> very </em> fond of complaining about every minuscule thing his father does. Alexander finds it hard to sympathize with the plights of a young, handsome, incredibly wealthy heir to the throne, but he has gotten good at acting the part, so he nods along and offers words of consolation and promises to help clear his head of any problems that are plaguing him. </p><p>He finds John in one of these moods after lunch when he goes to his chambers to help him dress for an outing. The moment the door is closed behind them, he slams his palm against the wall in anger, turns to face Alexander and lets out a weary sigh. “He asks for my opinion and then ignores every bit of input I try to provide. It’s not as if I’m an idiot! I suffered through years of the finest tutoring, and for what? To be brushed aside at every opportunity? It’s awful. I swear he does it just to spite me.” </p><p>Alexander keeps his distance for the moment. He knows his place in this arrangement and he’s not the one meant to initiate things. But with more boldness than his position should allow, he looks the prince in the eye and gives him half a grin. “Your turn at the throne will arrive someday, Your Highness. When that day comes you’ll no longer need to worry about jumping through these hoops for approval. Until then, I am afraid there’s not much to do for whatever foul moods make him act so terribly to you.”</p><p>The prince’s expression softens at his words, then shifts to something more playful.”Your words border on treason, Alexander, speaking so poorly of your king.” He takes a step closer. </p><p>“You must promise not to expose my misdeeds, Your Highness.” Alexander still stays put, watching the prince advance on him with overly observant anticipation. He tracks every move so he’s ready to respond when a hand reaches out to brush fingers against his lips. Alexander kisses them, then gives a breathy sigh as they slide up to his cheek. He leans into the touch, able to read the prince’s mood well enough by now. He wants to be admired, to be adored, to be needed. He wants Alexander to treat him as if he’s the only person in the world who can bring him satisfaction.</p><p>Alexander doesn’t mind playing into the fantasy.</p><p>“My dear boy, I would never.” The prince leans in, brushing Alexander’s hair to the side and pressing lips to the curve of his neck. “You are too precious to me,” he murmurs into the soft skin, his warm breath causing the first tingle of arousal to break through Alexander’s defenses. </p><p>“Mmmm,” he hums as those lips move towards his pulse point, kissing and lightly biting at exposed skin. “That feels so good, sir. I’ve missed you.”</p><p>“You were with me just last night,” the prince teases, giving a little, breathless laugh. “Are you really so ravenous for me that you cannot wait a full day for more, Alexander?” </p><p>Alexander knows it’s actually the other way around. He could refrain from these intimate activities easily right now. In fact, he is still a bit sore from the previous night, and it would certainly be simpler to get the prince prepared for his next engagement and send him on his way. But when the king riles his ego, the best way to smooth things over is always with a good session of love making, and Alexander knows that his place in the palace is secure as long as he continues to provide such an essential service to stabilizing the prince’s mood.</p><p>It’s easy enough to steer the prince away from any activities that will exacerbate his lingering pains. When he suggests the use of his mouth, he is met with enthusiastic agreement. And because the prince is <em> always </em> good to him, he insists on paying back the favor. Has them both strip down and instructs Alexander to lie on his side on the insanely plush bedding. He’s not entirely sure what the prince has in mind until he’s climbing up beside him, laying the opposite direction, his lips just inches from Alexander’s cock. </p><p>And the prince’s cock right in front of his own waiting mouth. </p><p>Though he knows arranging them like this is for his own benefit, so the prince can pleasure him as well, Alexander’s mind immediately gets to work on planning out how to do this correctly. Because if the prince finishes too much sooner than Alexander himself, any hope of improving his mood will be overshadowed by a new self conscious inadequacy. So Alexander needs to time this right. He starts off slow, sensual licks up his shaft, and rubs his face against the prince’s thigh, letting barely parted lips brush against his erection. </p><p>He feels the prince's lips, slick with saliva, wrap around the head of his cock. It feels <em> amazing </em> honestly, but he’s grown too desensitized to these activities lately, and he knows it won’t be enough to finish him off quickly. He taps into his own memories to pull up images of especially erotic past encounters, because despite what he told the prince to seem more desirable, Alexander <em> has </em> had experiences with others before this whole opportunity with the crown prince fell into his lap. Plenty in fact. He draws up a memory of particularly rough handling and moans loudly as the prince grips his thigh and hollows his cheeks. “Yes,” he sighs as he recalls hands gripping tightly in his hair, forcing him to choke on a stranger’s length. He feels his own cock twitch in response, and yes, <em> this is good</em>. The prince digs his fingers in more insistently. He thinks Alexander’s arousal is solely for him and doubles down on his efforts. <em> Perfect. </em></p><p>Feeling his own ardor building appropriately now, Alexander finally slides his lips over the head, running his tongue over the first bit of bitter precome that has already gathered. With the prince moving quicker now, Alexander sinks lower, taking more of the shaft into his mouth, letting it nudge the back of his throat. He relaxes the muscles there and then takes him in even further, all the way to the base until his nose is brushing up against taught lower abdominals. </p><p>The prince groans at the sensation, at the throat working to accommodate him, and the vibrations send shaky pleasure through Alexander as well. His mind flashes back to a different night, pressed between a wall and another man’s bulk, slick cock pushing its way past his resisting rim to pound deeply over and over and over again. He can practically hear the thuds of his body against the wall as he tips his hips towards the prince’s face, feels his own need start to boil over. He drags his tongue along the prince’s shaft as he draws his mouth just far enough back to sink down deep again, his throat working harder to relax at the more sudden intrusion. The slight gag and spasm of pain as he forces himself to take it are enough to spur Alexander on even more, and he begins pulsing his hips towards the prince’s face now, and he’s <em> almost </em> there. If he can just get a little more… something. He swallows the shaft in his mouth all the way down again and thinks back to hands roughly gripping his hips from behind, stretching and pushing and <em> taking</em>. He spends himself with a loud groan onto the prince’s tongue, simultaneously feeling the cock in his own throat pulse and then spill deep inside of him. The vibrations as the prince vocalizes his own pleasure keep Alexander perfectly balanced on the cusp of perfect and too much as he drifts down from his own orgasm, but before it can become uncomfortable the lips around him slide off and the cool air rushes against him once again. Content that he has finished as well, Alexander pulls back and breathes a sigh of satisfaction, nuzzling up against his thigh for added measure. After all the prince likes affection after these services, and Alexander likes knowing that no one else can please him quite so well. Job security is such a luxury, and he’s not about to risk it by <em> not </em>using every trick he knows. </p><p>So he untangles himself and crawls up towards the other end of the huge bed, settling into the prince’s arms when he opens them, expectant. Tucks his head up against the broad chest, listens to the steady beating of his heart. It’s nice. Peaceful. Perhaps it could even be <em> fulfilling </em>if there was ever a chance of it developing into something real, but of course Alexander can’t ignore reality.</p><p>After a short while of this domestic snuggling, he cranes his neck back to meet the prince’s eyes. Before he can open his mouth to speak, lips are pressed up against his, stealing another kiss with a gentle caress to the side of his face. Alexander hums sweetly against him, then breaks it off and puts a hand against his chest to prevent another. “Your Highness,” he says, soft but firm. “We need to get you dressed. The Duke and his guests will be expecting you, and you are already running quite late.”</p><p>“They can wait,” the prince growls, running a hand down Alexander’s side and digging fingers in at his hips. </p><p>Alexander just breathes a soft, amused sigh and shakes his head. “You’ve <em> just </em> had me, sir. It’s not as if you’ll be ready for another round soon anyway. You have promised the Duke your company, and a prince should keep his promises, don’t you think?”</p><p>He sighs and turns over onto his back. “Yes, yes. I suppose so. I wish you could come along and keep me properly occupied throughout the evening. The Duke has always been <em> incredibly </em> dull, and I’d much rather have you around to keep me distracted, my dear boy.”</p><p>Alexander swallows against his dry throat wondering if that’s a request to <em> actually </em>travel with him. Of course he wouldn’t refuse, but he is rather looking forward to getting some time to simply work other tasks around the palace, some time with his own thoughts. “I don’t think there would be much excuse to bring your valet along with you, sir.”</p><p>The prince smiles, but it’s a little sad. “No, of course not. Just a wishful fantasy. I will have to suffer alone it seems.”</p><p>Alexander isn’t sure he would consider an evening of drinking and dining with other incredibly wealthy people in the kingdom <em> suffering </em> per se, but he gives a sympathetic hum anyway. Allows the prince to draw him up into one last kiss before he rolls over and pushes himself up from the edge of the bed. </p><hr/><p>With the prince gone for the evening, Alexander heads down to the ground floor of the palace, content to contribute to more communal tasks. Eventually the housekeeper shoos him away, claiming they have <em> more than enough </em> staff tending to their chores right now. She suggests he use the small amount of free time to <em> actually rest for once</em>. Alexander huffs a sigh, but retreats to his own small room upstairs, curls up in a chair with a book he’s borrowed from the library and whiles away the time until supper that way. </p><p>He rejoins the rest of the staff downstairs for their meal, timed to begin just after the royal family has eaten and the dining room has been cleared and cleaned so that they may eat together. He chews at a particularly tough piece of meat, trying to deflect the benign flirtations of a kitchen maid. Something the others will most definitely tease him for when the girl isn’t around. Halfway through supper, one of the king’s messengers interrupts. He’s discreet enough when he comes to hover by Alexander’s seat and tell him his presence has been requested once he has finished eating, but of course, the exchange draws the attention of every single person at the table. How could it not? </p><p>“What did you do, Alexander?” one of the younger footmen asks with wide eyes. </p><p>Alexander scoffs. “I haven’t <em> done </em> anything,” he says dismissively. Except, well, that’s not exactly true. He has always wondered if the king was aware of his heir’s proclivity for taking men to bed. Specifically for taking <em> Alexander </em>to bed since he’s fairly sure the prince hasn’t been sating his needs elsewhere since this whole thing began.  </p><p>“Then what does His Majesty want with you, Hamilton?” One of the lady’s maids eyes him suspiciously, taking a sip from her cup. </p><p>“How should I know?” He stabs another bite of meat with his fork, not meeting anyone’s eyes. </p><p>“You must have <em> some </em> inkling.”</p><p>The housekeeper clears her throat. “Leave the boy alone, and let him finish his supper in peace. All of you.” </p><p>Alexander feels his cheeks flush crimson, but is thankful for the defense nonetheless. She’s always been protective of him, ever since he came to the palace as a child. The other servants tend to be weary of her severe demeanor, but ever since his own mother had passed, she’s been a sort of substitute for him– fussing over his health and trying to ensure he doesn’t get into too much trouble. </p><p>The conversation resumes around him, but he’s more focused on the flurry of his own thoughts, trying to work through what this summons could be about. The only thing he can possibly imagine that would bring the king to request an audience with <em> him </em> is his affair with the prince. It’s not a comforting realization. He’s barely able to force down the rest of his plate past the anxiety tightening his throat. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him when he stands prematurely from the table, but no one says a word this time, and he slips out the door with a sense of dread resting low and heavy in his stomach. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alexander has been instructed that the king is waiting for him up in his chambers. He hasn’t been to this section of the palace much over the many years that he’s lived here, but he knows the layout of the entire place well enough. As he ascends stone steps and moves through the narrow hallways silently, he passes other servants and palace guards going about their business. One of them nods him inside towards a private sitting room when he approaches the king’s chambers. He steps into the room, and the door is closed behind him as he takes in the silhouette of the king, tall, imposing, standing with his back to the door as he stares out the window at the sprawling palace grounds. </p><p>Alexander feels his heart pound frantically behind his ribs as he drops into a low bow. “Your Majesty, you wanted to see me?” </p><p>He turns slowly, and finally Alexander is able to catch the look on his face– hard, composed, with a flicker of curiosity underlying it. “Alexander, is it?” </p><p>His throat feels too dry to speak, but he swallows a few times as he straightens up and responds anyway, grateful when his voice doesn’t crack. “Yes, sir.” </p><p>“Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice.” </p><p>Alexander wants fervently to comment on the fact that he didn’t <em> really </em> have a choice, but he holds his tongue. This is the ruler of the entire kingdom after all. He needs to tread carefully. “Of course, Your Majesty. Is there something I can assist you with?”</p><p>The king hums thoughtfully as he takes a couple of steps closer, staring Alexander down all the while. “Perhaps. You see, I’m concerned for my son, Alexander. He seems increasingly distracted as of late.”</p><p>When the king doesn’t continue, just assesses him, seeming to read the thoughts that must be flashing across his face, Alexander forces a strained smile to his lips, trying to appear more clueless than he truly is. “Is that so, sir?” </p><p>One eyebrow raises on that endlessly controlled face. “Don’t play naive, boy.” It takes an enormous amount of willpower not to flinch at the words. “You’re likely around my Jack more than anyone. You must have some idea what’s been holding so much of his attention. Tell me.”</p><p>Alexander quickly considers his options. There’s no way he can tell the king– Prince John’s <em> father</em>– the true reason his son has been so distracted. He’s quite sure he wouldn’t react well to the revelation that his heir’s mind has been firmly fixated on shoving his royal cock inside his servant. </p><p>“I think he has his eye on a lady, sir.” </p><p>The king hums, sounding thoroughly unimpressed with his lie. “Are you quite sure?” He paces a few steps away from the window, and he’s still a good distance from Alexander, but even this meager proximity raises the hairs on his arms like an uncomfortable chill. </p><p>He swallows nervously. “He hasn’t confided the secret in me, sir. I have merely assumed based on changes in his habits. You must know how men get when they fancy someone. Thoroughly distracted, always daydreaming, spending more time holed up alone.” Not that the prince has been <em> alone </em> very often lately. Alexander seems to be summoned to his quarters every spare moment he gets. </p><p>“Do you think I’m an idiot, Alexander?” He says the words with perfectly cool indifference, but they sting as if he’s been slapped and the blood drains from Alexander’s face. This is the <em> king </em>after all. To offend him can easily be construed as a punishable offense. </p><p><em> “Of course not, Your Majesty.” </em> He bows his head down to stare at the floor as he says it, hoping the action is deferential enough to atone for any unintentional slight. </p><p>The blood is pounding in his own ears so loudly that he doesn’t notice the king crossing the sitting room until he’s standing directly in front of him, polished boots directly in Alexander’s line of sight, He feels his throat go dry, but he keeps his head bowed. </p><p>“Do you think I haven’t noticed the way he watches you? That he keeps you close even when he has no need of your services? You seem to have him thoroughly under your spell.” </p><p>Alexander’s breathing has turned shallow now, and he’s quite sure his face is as pale as it’s ever been. Fuck, this isn’t good. Does the king suspect he’s using the prince for some sort of personal gain? That he has malicious plans to accomplish by driving him senseless with lust? It would be laughable if he weren’t terrified of being accused of treason. He shakes his head silently, hoping against hope that this night doesn’t end with him in chains. </p><p>“Are you denying that my son is– ah shall we say– enamored with you?”</p><p>Lying further won’t do him any favors if the king has picked up on this much already. Dammit. He should have known the prince’s expressive face and adoring looks would get him in trouble someday. “No, sir.” And now the blood comes back to his face in full force, blushing furiously. “That is to say, he has occasionally requested my assistance with more intimate matters. But I assure you I have no ulterior motives. I simply want to serve the prince to the best of my abilities, and I didn’t feel denying his requests was appropriate.” </p><p>A strong, firm hand comes under his chin, guiding his face upward so Alexander is forced to make reluctant eye contact. The king’s gaze is dark and full of intense, heady curiosity. His touch is shockingly warm. “And what is it about you, Alexander, that has my son so ensnared?” </p><p>Alexander shakes his head helplessly, at a loss. He’s too close, that hand still resolutely holding his face steady, trapped, nothing to do but force breaths in and out of his lungs as he tries not to tremble under the weight of this moment and the king’s eyes burning into him. </p><p>“I’d like to find out.” Alexander swallows hard. Blinks a few times. He can’t comprehend what the king means by it, and <em> that </em> frustrates him more than anything because he’s not an idiot. His brain normally processes information more smoothly than this, but it’s so <em> difficult </em> with those fingers still grazing the warm skin of his face. He’s confused and hopelessly out of his element, and he doesn’t know how to react when the king brings his other hand up to tug loose the ribbon tying back his hair, carding his fingers through the long strands and humming in approval. “You <em> are </em> quite a pretty little thing.” He runs the hand from his chin up the side of Alexander’s face, tracing the line of his jaw and tucking a loose lock of hair behind his ear. “But I imagine your looks aren’t the only thing that have captured Jack’s attention so completely. Tell me, when my son disappeared after lunch today, what were the two of you up to?”</p><p>Alexander’s eyes widen in surprise and his heart rate picks up again because he hadn’t expected him to know quite <em> so much </em>. </p><p>But the king just laughs at his reaction, running his thumb along Alexander’s bottom lip in a gesture that makes his skin heat uncomfortably. “You must realize that my guards are not shy about telling me where people are sneaking around in my own palace, boy. So tell me,” he says in a low, rumbling voice, trailing his fingers down the side of Alexander’s throat and resting them just centimeters from where his pulse is thudding away beneath his skin. “What were the two of you up to?”</p><p>Despite being thoroughly sated by his earlier activities, these gentle, confusing caresses have his body taking interest again, and he feels an uncomfortable shiver run through him as he tries to focus on a response. The fingers at his throat keep him frozen in place as he stares into the king’s intent gaze, even as he wishes for nothing more than to bolt. “He– ah the prince– was riled up after the meeting this morning. He frequently asks for my assistance when he gets so worked up– I think it cools his temper a bit– so I offered my mouth.” He flushes scarlet with the confession, and the fact that he can’t look away means the king can witness every humiliating second of his reaction. </p><p>“I think,” the king murmurs, low and dark, as he circles behind Alexander, not moving his hand as he does. By the time he is standing uncomfortably close against Alexander’s back, his hand is wrapped lightly around his throat, an idle threat that sends alarm bells ringing through his mind, but Alexander has nowhere to go. Like a rabbit in a cage, he’s trapped. “That you can offer more detail than that. How exactly did you pleasure him? Did he attend to your needs in return? Go on, Alexander. Describe it for me.” He punctuates the command with a delicate squeeze at his throat, his heartbeat thudding uncomfortably against the pulse point under the king’s broad hand. </p><p>Alexander’s eyes dart helplessly around the room, as if there were anything or anyone that could get him out of this mess. Even if there <em> were </em> someone else in the room, what would they do? Alexander is merely a servant of the royal household, and Henry is the <em> king</em>. The ruler of everyone and everything in their kingdom. No one would be foolish enough to put an end to this. </p><p>That’s when it clicks. There <em> is </em> no ending this. And it’s not as if Alexander hasn’t engaged in similarly precarious sexual exploits before. Sure, this one is with the <em> king</em>, so there’s an added element of risk, but he has no reason to suspect he won’t be able to please him just as surely as he’s pleased all of the others. </p><p>He shoves the tattered remnants of his shame back down and closes his eyes, picturing that afternoon, trying to draw the memory back as clearly as he can. “The prince, he– ah– he kissed my neck, behind my ears, my shoulders. He usually starts out like that. Kissing, biting. Little intimacies to set the mood.” </p><p>“Like this?” The king brushes Alexander’s hair aside and nips lightly at soft, flushed skin on the side of his neck, his other hand still pressed over his pulse, now rapidly beating in response to the warm breath and sting of teeth. He nods with what little room he has to move, but the king tsks disapprovingly. “Use your words, boy.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” His voice has gone breathy, and he’s not quite sure if it’s acting or not at this point.  </p><p>“Go on,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand from Alexander’s shoulder to rake his fingers down his arm. </p><p>Alexander had almost forgotten the task he had been given, so it took a moment to shake himself back into his story, his voice growing shakier as he continued. “He, ah–” His voice cut off suddenly as the king sucked a gentle mark into the skin at the top of his shoulder, shifting aside the fabric of his shirt to reach the spot he wanted. Alexander had to take a steadying breath before he went on. “He brought me to his bed. Positioned me on my side and then laid next to me so we could...um…” God, it’s too much. He can’t be expected to say these words aloud. Alexander bites at his lip and hopelessly pleads with the universe that his slip will go unnoticed. </p><p>But begging to the universe to solve his problems has never been enough for him. Why should the cosmos start cooperating today?</p><p>“So you could <em> what</em>, Alexander?” </p><p>“So that we could pleasure each other. Simultaneously.” He’s surprised he hasn’t passed out, because he’s <em> sure </em> all of his blood is collected in either his face or his cock. He burns with self conscious shame, but part of him finds the whole thing conflictingly appealing. And then there are the physical sensations of the king tenderly touching him, kissing him, <em> biting </em> him. </p><p>“Show me.”</p><p>His eyes shoot open, his whole body tense as he grapples with the words. Whether he’s heard correctly. He swallows around the sudden dryness in his throat. </p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>“Show me how the prince had you pleasure him, Alexander. Do you not understand the instructions?”</p><p>“I–” He glances around the room, uncertain even if he <em> were </em> completely sure he has understood what the king is asking of him that he has the proper space to do it. “How?” </p><p>The king’s glance is disapproving, but he seems to pick up where Alexander’s trouble lies. He turns on his heel and walks across the sitting room towards a door– not the one Alexander entered from– a different door leading deeper into the king’s chambers. He only turns back to look over his shoulder once his hand is on the knob. “Well? Come along, Alexander.” </p><p>He startles at the command but hurries to follow, his heart beating too quickly, making him jumpy and triggering the urge to run. Instead he lets the king guide him deeper into this snare. They pass through another room, this one mostly empty but with a guard stationed at the opposite end outside another, more grand door. The king doesn’t spare the man a second glance, but Alexander can’t help searching his face, wondering if he’s questioning what a servant boy is doing alone with the king in his chambers, all too aware of the fact that he’s close enough to hear anything that might go on inside that room. Luckily for him, the guard’s face is unreadable, and he doesn’t make eye contact when Alexander stares up at him. </p><p>The royal bedchambers are extravagant, even compared to Prince John’s room. Everything is large and plush and ornately decorated, and Alexander is afraid if he breathes on something wrong he may break it. There are paintings with golden frames covering almost every inch of wall space, and each piece of furniture is likely worth more than his meager life’s savings. The king closes the door behind them. He does not lock it, but Alexander has no fear they’ll be interrupted. The guard outside the door seems like a steady enough deterrent. </p><p>He hovers by the entrance, unsure what’s expected of him and even more unsure how he managed to land himself in this position in the first place.</p><p>The king takes a few steps into the room, then turns to give Alexander another slow once over. His eyes are hungry now, even more so than before, and perhaps it’s the fact that they’re here, in his sleeping chambers, that is evoking this shift in tone. It is after all a more intimate place than the sitting room where he must entertain countless important guests. This space is reserved for a select few, and Alexander is overtly aware of that fact. It weighs heavy on his shoulders. </p><p>“So,” the king says, his voice low and deep and rough with barely restrained heat. “Show me, Alexander. I trust you won’t have any issues replicating the process now.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave a comment down below if you're enjoying this depraved piece</p><p>Come find me on tumblr @ilovefoodandgirls</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alexander looks at the bed, huge and luxurious and ridiculously soft looking. Takes a step towards it, but can’t bring himself to get any closer. Every move feels too precarious. If it were just the king <em> telling </em> him what to do maybe it would be easier, but <em> this</em>– asking <em> Alexander </em> to take the lead– it just feels like a trap. </p><p>Again, it’s almost like the king can read his mind. “Go ahead. Were you on his bed? Show me how you were positioned.” </p><p>Alexander feels the blood rush to his cheeks again, but approaches the bed. He can’t help but reach out a hand, stroking the soft bedding, feeling it against his fingers. Nothing like the rough wool blanket he has in his room. He wonders what it must be like to live like this everyday. To know nothing besides excess and luxury. Before he can crawl up onto the mattress, the king stops him with a pointed look. “Did the prince have you in his bed with your clothes on, boy? Or were you stripped bare for him to enjoy?” </p><p>His face heats again, but there’s a flood of tingling arousal low in gut too. Alexander is somewhat terrified, sure, but he can’t deny the king has a certain appeal. Power and strength, strong hands and broad shoulders. The type of commanding presence that tends to make him weak in the knees. The type of man Alexander might have gone out looking for before his arrangement with the prince began. And <em> this </em> man has the added benefit of ruling the entire kingdom. </p><p>He diverts his eyes to the floor as he answers, hoping the king will appreciate the demure expression and the way his hair falls in front of his face. “I wasn’t wearing any clothes, sir.”</p><p>The sound he hums is equal measures pleased and possessive. “Go on then. Take them off.” </p><p>He can feel those eyes on him, burning into him, drinking in his every move as he starts with his shirt, untucking and then pulling it over his head. He’s not sure what to do with the discarded clothing now. The room seems too beautiful, the company too formal, to simply toss it to the ground. He notices a chair not far from the bed and carefully lays the shirt down. He follows with the rest of his clothing, stripping himself piece by piece until he’s completely naked and shivering in the slight chill of the room. He stands and waits at the edge of the bed, not sure if he has permission to go further without more instruction. </p><p>The king approaches him, unhurried, casual, completely at ease in contrast to the nerves buzzing under Alexander’s skin. He gets close enough to touch, but doesn’t. Just traces the lines of Alexander’s body with dark eyes, humming a note of approval that makes a shiver race up his spine. Finally, after what feels like an eon, the king shifts his eyes to the bed. “Well, Alexander? Tell me– how did he have you positioned?”</p><p>Alexander licks dry lips and follows his gaze to the bed. Takes a long, steadying inhale and then lets it out in a rush. If he’s going to impress the king, he needs to relax. He’s at his best, his most alluring, when he’s acting the part correctly. When he’s with the prince, that means adoration, hanging onto his every word and agreeing with his opinions. Feeding into his insecurities and bolstering his confidence. But with the king– Alexander isn’t quite sure. He’s unreadable. Controlled and powerful. Surely he’s the type of man who is never denied anything. Alexander isn’t sure which angle to approach this from. He isn’t sure there <em> is </em> an angle to approach this from.</p><p>But wait– no. He’s just a man underneath it all, isn’t he? A man with the weight of an entire kingdom on his shoulders. And it’s not as if Alexander hasn’t had encounters with similar men. Men who feel the inescapable pain of duty day in and day out, who don’t have a sufficient way to release their baser instincts. Men who like to grab him and use him and chase their own pleasure for a short while. Uncomplicated bliss.</p><p>And for a man like the king, the best way he can think to accomplish that is to play small and vulnerable. Helpless. Let him play out his urges without all of the confining limitations he’s used to in being such a public figure. </p><p>It’s not a particularly hard role to play. After all, the king is much larger than him, strong and tall, the type of man born to lead and inspire obedience in those he rules. And Alexander <em> is </em> helpless right now. He’s confident that he’ll come out of this perfectly fine– he always manages to maneuver his way out of the stickiest situations, and he has no reason to believe today will be any different– but that doesn’t change the fact that the king could ruin him with no more than a few words. Have him executed or banished. End his life either physically or socially, and it’s all the same in the end isn’t it? Yes, when it comes down to it, he is entirely at the king’s mercy. It shouldn’t thrill him quite as much as it does. </p><p>He blinks wide, doe eyes up at the man now, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest against the chill. He has a feeling things will heat up soon enough. “He had me up on the mattress, on my side, sir. With my head towards the foot of the bed.” </p><p>The king tilts his head towards the bed as if to say <em> go on</em>, so Alexander does– climbs up, too aware of the sheer absurdity of the fact that he is naked in <em> the king’s bed</em>. But he has no time to feel self conscious about that now. He props himself on his side, making sure to face the king so he can watch him, so he can know what’s coming. Even here, knowing there’s not much he could do to fight back or escape, he doesn’t like the idea of having his back turned. Leftover habits of a rough childhood. </p><p>Only now– with Alexander positioned and staring up at him, nothing to do but <em> wait </em> – does the king step closer to the bed. Alexander thinks he’ll climb up beside him– that is the <em> point </em>of this after all, to get into bed with him– but he finds his read on the situation isn’t quite right. He looks his fill for a moment, drinking in the contours of Alexander’s body, creamy skin juxtapositioned against the rich red of the bedding. When he paces towards the foot of the bed, then around to the other side, Alexander tries to roll over, to keep an eye on the proceedings, but the king reaches out a steady hand as he rounds the bed, keeping him still with a firm grasp on his hip. </p><p>“Did I tell you to move?”</p><p>He feels a wave of not-altogether-irrational panic rise high in his chest. Everything feels too tight, and he needs to <em> see </em>. His throat feels impossibly dry, constricted. He glances up over his shoulder with the pretext of making eye contact. The angle is awkward and strains the muscles in his neck, but at least there’s no surprises this way. “No, sir.” </p><p>“Then stay put, boy.” The king punctuates the command with a rough squeeze, thumb digging into the softer flesh of his ass, and Alexander can’t stifle the quiet whimper that accompanies the rush of desire flooding through him at the touch. His body is a tangled mess of fear and panic and coursing hot <em> need </em>, and he’s never felt quite so desperate for someone to put their hands on him. To shove him down against the ridiculously ornate bed and fuck him into next week. </p><p>But that’s not what the king is asking for. </p><p>For whatever complicated reasons he may have, he’s asking Alexander to replicate his experience with the prince that afternoon. If he had more time to really think this through, perhaps that notion would set off some alarm bells in his head, but right now he’s just trying to take things step by step, decide how to best get what he needs out of the situation. He could lie. Could tell the king that his son was rough– hard and fast with just enough pain to remind Alexander of his own mortality– but no. That’s not a well thought out plan. If the king truly has tabs on everything going on in the palace– a notion which Alexander doesn’t doubt– then anyone tracking his movements and listening in would know that wasn’t true. And the consequences that could befall him for <em> lying to the ruler of his kingdom </em> unfortunately outweigh his own desire for this to go down how he really wants it. </p><p>Still, even now this is tinted with more danger and commands than his relationship with the prince, and it sets delicious adrenaline flowing through his veins, heightening every sensation into delicious torture.</p><p>At the soft noise that escapes him, the king squeezes harder, his nails biting into the skin a bit, and Alexander can hear a low rumble from his chest. When he finally softens his grip, the hand doesn’t retreat. Just strokes lower, down his thigh, then he runs his thumb along the tense place at the very back of his leg where his hamstrings are pulled tight. The touch sends a visible shiver through him, but he manages to stay mostly still. </p><p>The king hums a low, pleased note. “You’re quite the sight, Alexander. I can see why Jack has been so completely, hopelessly distracted.” </p><p>He bites his lip, flushed with this unexpected praise, and then bites down harder as the king’s fingers explore higher, lightly brushing against him, triggering the nerves under his skin, making him squirm the closer he gets to more sensitive areas. When they reach the top of his thigh, he traces the curve of Alexander’s ass, and Alexander can’t stop the way his whole groin tightens at the touch. His neck, his face, his chest, everything feels too warm, and he can’t believe he was ever <em> cold </em> in this room. It feels as if it could be on fire. </p><p>And only now that he has properly appreciated his prey does the king climb up onto the mattress. He maneuvers himself over the boy lying in his bed, coming to kneel at his other side, and Alexander lets out a sigh of relief at finally being able to relax his neck without giving up the advantage of keeping the king within his field of view. </p><p>“Tell me,” he says, tracing his fingers lightly at the curve of Alexander’s hip bone. “What did you do next to keep him so thoroughly under your spell?” </p><p>Alexander swallows, fighting back the urge to lean into the touch. “He– the prince– laid down beside me, touched me and brought my…” He trailed off, flushing too warm at the words. </p><p>“Go on, boy,” the king tells him, fingers gripping into his hip with bruising strength that makes Alexander flinch. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”</p><p>“He brought my manhood into his mouth. Pleasured me while I did the same to him.” He can feel the blood burning hot as the sun in his face, and it’s as much humiliation as guilt now. The prince may be spoiled and a little oblivious to the real world, but he’s good to Alexander. And this hardly seems like an appropriate way to repay his kindness. </p><p>On the other hand, it’s not like he has much of a <em> choice</em>. </p><p>The guilt subsides a bit as the king’s fingers soften their grip at his hip and slide lower, just ghosting over the hard line of his cock. He whimpers and shifts restlessly at the contact. </p><p>Still, he can’t quite help the way his eyes go wide when the king lowers himself down onto his side, his own face certainly too close to Alex’s groin for any sort of propriety. He’s not sure what he was <em> expecting</em>. After all, the king has been clear enough in what he’s asking, looking for Alexander to replicate whatever experience he had with the prince earlier. But at the same time, it had been impossible to imagine <em> this </em>– the king stretched out beside him, lips just inches away from where his cock rested, arching obscenely up towards his stomach, flooded with arousal that had been building ever since the air had shifted between the two of them and the king’s intentions had become clear. </p><p>He leans forward, slow but sure, and licks an insistent stripe up the underside of Alexander’s shaft that sends a visible tremor through him. “Like this, Alexander?” he rumbles, low and rough with barely restrained heat. </p><p>“Yes, sir. Except–” He bites at his lip, unsure even now if correcting the king is an advisable move. But, of course he would <em> want </em>to be corrected on this point surely. “I cannot reach you properly through your garments. Please, let me pleasure you, Your Majesty.” </p><p>The king looks down at him through heavily lidded eyes and reaches for the laces of his own trousers, tugging at the knots until they’re loosened enough that he can pull himself free. He doesn’t strip down– remains mostly dressed– but that’s fine because Alexander really only needs access to this <em> one </em>part of him anyway. </p><p>He leans forward, nuzzles his cheek against the newly freed cock in front of him, and breathes a pleased sigh. “You are magnificent, sir.” And he <em> is</em>. Thick and long, perfectly hard and flushed with his own desire. If Alexander wasn’t so concerned about what he is and is not allowed to do here, he’d already have that shaft down his throat. </p><p>He makes do with lapping at the small drop of precome that has formed at the tip, pressing his tongue lightly against the king’s head and humming in delight at the slightly bitter rush against his taste buds. He hears a barely muffled groan from the king as he leans back in and licks along Alexander’s length once again. He must not be made of as much steel as he tries to project. Even the hardest rocks can break with the right kind of pressure after all. </p><p>His gut tells him that the king won’t spill quite as readily as his son, so he sets diligently to his task. Leans in and wets his lips before sliding them over the head, not taking too much yet, experimenting with different tricks and listening carefully to pinpoint what’s working and what isn’t. Notices the way the king’s breathing hitches when he flicks his tongue right along the underside and then drags it in a slow circle around the head. Grins around his cock and repeats the motion, only faltering a bit in his movements when the king finally switches from occasional licks up Alexander’s length to wrapping his <em> own </em> mouth around him. </p><p>Alexander takes a second to steady himself, trying not to make any noises that will give away how much such a simple move has affected him. But the king must not be pleased with this brief pause. He digs vicious fingers into the back of his thigh. The pain is sharp, and overwhelming, and <em> so deliciously wonderful</em>. Alexander groans around the head of the king’s cock, the noise visceral, not at all acted, and sinks lower down along his shaft, taking as much as will comfortably fit. It’s a thick mouthful, and there’s not as much room to maneuver as he’s used to, but that’s more than made up for by the fact that being so <em> full </em> is sending a wonderful pulse of arousal through his veins. He wonders what he must look like, his lips stretched obscenely around the king, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to take careful breaths through his nose, his hands resting awkwardly in front of him because he’s not sure what he’s allowed to touch and isn’t about to make any uneducated guesses. </p><p>The king– perhaps noticing how he reacted to the touch– doesn’t remove his hand from Alexander’s thigh. Uses his grip to hold him still, drag him closer, nails digging in so hard Alexander is sure they’ll leave marks. Around the sharp bursts of pain, he can feel the king’s tongue stroking along his shaft, working him into a frenzy, and then, <em> then </em> he drags his nails lower down Alexander’s thigh, leaving angry red lines that burn through the pleasure, and it takes all of his willpower not to abandon his own task in favor of just <em> feeling</em>. He hums his desperate moan of encouragement around the king’s cock, the vibrations seeming to urge him on. He shifts his hips, as much as the angle will allow, to thrust deeper into Alexander’s mouth, breaching the back of his throat and setting off a round of wet, choking noises as he gags on the intrusion. Rather than pull off though, Alexander forces himself to stay put, to wait out the discomfort until his throat relaxes once again and then bobs his head improbably deeper. God– <em> there is just so much of him.  </em></p><p>He’s finally taken the king off guard now, evident by his rough groan of approval, more desperate sounding now as he rolls his hips against that resisting heat. The sparks of pain in both Alexander’s throat and his thigh light up his nerves and mingle beautifully with the absolute wonder of the man’s mouth on his cock. He can feel his orgasm tipping dangerously close, and he lets out a desperate litany of noises in warning– not wanting to know what the punishment for unexpectedly spilling in his king’s mouth would be. He takes the hint and pulls back, Alexander’s cock sliding from his lips with a sinful popping noise. At the loss of contact, Alexander grinds his hips forward, but it’s useless. He’s chasing friction that’s no longer there, and the pathetic whine he attempts around the shaft pressing into his throat only sets off another round of gagging. </p><p>The king pulls back just enough to allow Alexander air and the space to recover. Props himself up on one elbow, about a foot away from Alexander’s groin now, and runs his fingers up along the curve of his hip– close, but not close enough for any sort of relief. “Touch yourself,” he says simply, staring down at Alexander’s face as he blinks wide eyes at his king. The words aren’t a suggestion so much as a command, and Alexander has no intention of disobeying. Reaches down between them and wraps one hand around his own cock, the king’s still resting heavy on his tongue, and begins to stroke. He’s so close, wound tight enough he can see stars behind his eyes when he closes them, and all it takes is several strokes and the king’s grip doubling down, digging those nails sharp and punishing into his flesh again, and he suddenly he feels his own seed shooting out of him as a warm rush of bliss washes over his body, painting the expensive bedding and his own bare stomach with the sticky mess, and leaving Alexander’s chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. </p><p>The king isn’t unaffected by the display. He growls in heady delight at the noises Alexander makes as he comes undone, muffled by his own throbbing erection shoved deep in his mouth, and as soon as Alexander is thoroughly spent, he pulls out for just a moment to reposition the two of them so that he can lean back against the pillows, tugs Alexander into place so he’s kneeling between strong thighs. He uses the greater leverage this new position affords to twist his fingers in  Alexander’s hair and guide his head up and down as he fucks into him from below, an inescapable assault on his throat– though Alexander had no intentions of attempting an escape. He rides out this use in a haze of sated contentment, and when the king finally stills deep inside of him, holding him down with a heavy hand at the back of his head, he moans low and encouraging and swallows every drop of hot semen that spills into his abused throat. </p><p>In the moment that follows, the tension is nearly palpable in the room. Alexander allows himself to be pulled off of the  softening cock, fingers still tangled into his hair, and darts his eyes up to the man’s face. The king’s voice is cool indifference, but Alexander can’t miss the glint of possessive heat behind his eyes. “I can see the appeal.” The words sound almost mocking, but there’s no mistaking the shallow way the king is breathing, how he angles Alexander’s head up to get a better look at him. He swallows hard, feeling his throat work against the tight pull of the position, and stares up into dark eyes. His own heart is hammering in his chest, even if the rest of his body has calmed, but there’s something in the king’s gaze that reassures him.</p><p>There’s actual emotion there. Pleasure, approval, contentment. Desire. <em> Oh</em>, Alexander can work with this. He has plenty of experience twisting other men’s hearts to get what he wants. And what better source of access to all the safety and comforts he’ll ever need than the king himself? </p><p>When that strong hand finally releases him, he straightens up, leans back on his heels and waits for whatever comes next. Based on previous experiences, he’s found the moments directly after an encounter like this are always the hardest part to manage. No telling exactly how quickly the mood will change after the swell of passion begins to fade. So Alexander waits, and observes, and keeps his mouth shut until the king deems to address him again. </p><p>He’s truly not sure what to expect– perhaps praise, perhaps a dismissal, perhaps instructions that he is to be of service to the king alone from now on– but it certainly isn’t the command that slips out silky smooth from his lips. “The next time the prince has you in his bed, you will come to me after. Whatever ways you pleasure him, you will repeat them here, with me. Is that understood?”</p><p>A strange knot twists low in his stomach– he’s not quite sure what to make of this request, and he’s not sure he wants to analyze the implications behind it too much– and he blinks up at the king. When he bites his lip, he can still taste his seed on his tongue, and he answers the only way he possibly can. No one refuses the king. “Yes, Your Majesty.” </p><p>The hard lines of his face soften into the faintest smile. “Very good. You may go, Alexander. I think we are quite done for the night.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And the final chapter! Thanks for coming along on this particular ride with me </p><p>Please please please leave me a comment down below &lt;3 Literally anything and everything is appreciated, even if you just want to scream</p><p>I'm over on tumblr @ilovefoodandgirls</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This "prompt" turned into a 9000ish word monster</p><p>Leave comments down below!</p><p>I'm over on tumblr @ilovefoodandgirls</p></blockquote></div></div>
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